by Frank Morin
She was not alone. The man in the wide-brimmed hat stood barely ten feet away, facing her, wearing a modern business suit of pinstriped navy.
“Hello, Sarah.” He spoke in a smooth, cultured voice with an accent she couldn’t place.
She retreated and only then realized her spear was gone.
He followed slowly, his face concealed, walking with the confident stride of someone who felt in control.
She was going to have to change that real soon.
“You know me,” she said. “But I hate calling you the man in the wide-brimmed hat.”
He chuckled. “The name amuses me, but you may call me Master.”
“Thanks, but I have a boyfriend,” she snapped. “If I’m going to have to kill you, I should know your name.”
He tipped his hat up enough to let her see his smile. His chin was clean-shaven, his mouth looked strong. He stood just over average height, and his build seemed athletic, but not as powerful as Tomas’. His suit, so incongruous in an ancient Roman temple, looked tailored, with sharp creases in the pants. If not for the hat and the feeling of danger he radiated, he could have slipped into a board meeting in any of a thousand large-cap corporations.
Mai Luan had looked unremarkable too, but she’d been nearly impossible to kill.
“You may call me Paul.”
“No offense, but that’s not much of a creepy villain name,” Sarah said, trying not to look too obvious as she scanned the huge room for exits. She could see none besides the archway, but Paul stood between her and the stairs.
“It is the only name you may know,” Paul said, the smooth tone of his voice cracking a bit with irritation. “And knowing even this name grants you more honor than your status deserves.”
A guy who had to keep multiple secret names was definitely someone Sarah didn’t want to spend time getting to know. “And what exactly is my status?” Sarah asked. If she could keep him talking, maybe she could learn something useful before marking the escape rune.
“Don’t pretend to be stupid, Sarah,” Paul said, his lips, barely visible beneath the brim of his hat, turning down in a little frown. “You owe a life debt for Mai Luan, and that debt will be collected as soon as you answer my questions.”
Sarah retreated a few steps, her fear spiking. He really was connected with Mai Luan. “Wait a minute,” she protested. “She was trying to kill me.”
“And she should have succeeded,” Paul snapped, taking an angry step closer. “How is it that a simple mortal could defeat her in the moment of her victory?”
“How do you know it was me?” Sarah asked. They hadn’t shared the details of that confrontation with anyone outside of their close circle.
“You are not the one asking the questions,” Paul said, his voice turning cold. A sword appeared in his hands. It was a single-edged weapon that looked a lot like a saber, but with a wider bade. “The hunter and the facetaker assisted your struggle, but you played the key role. You will explain to me the details of those unusual powers you displayed in the bunker.”
Paul advanced slowly toward her, the sword held loosely in his hand. Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off of that shiny length of steel as she retreated from him. The room was big, but she didn’t fool herself into thinking she could avoid him. She concentrated, trying to summon her M4 carbine with attached grenade launcher. That would even the odds.
The gun did not appear. Instead she got a splitting headache.
Sarah clutched at her temples. “No fair. You get a weapon.”
“Of course. I control this space, as I control the final moments of your life. Now answer my question. What runes did you use to defeat her?”
“I’m not a hunter.” Sarah shifted to the right, hoping to circle the room back toward that archway, but Paul moved to cut her off, shortening the distance between them. She was nearing one of the solid stone outer walls, and her fear was growing to near-panic levels as that sword drew ever closer.
It looked like she’d learned as much as she could. Time to bail.
Sarah concentrated and, despite her headache flaring to migraine levels, a black marker appeared in her hand. She ripped the cap off and started marking the escape rune.
Paul lunged, crossing the distance between them in a blink, moving as fast as Mai Luan had in Berlin. He snatched the marker away and back-handed Sarah in the shoulder. He made it look casual, but the blow struck like the butt of an ax. It catapulted Sarah off her feet and sent her tumbling all the way to the wall. She struggled to stand, braced against the stones, but couldn’t find her breath and couldn’t move her left arm. The blow had left it numb and useless.
“Answer me truthfully and I will claim the life debt swiftly,” Paul said, sauntering toward her, his voice conversational. “Continue to stall, and your final moments will be extremely painful.”
Sarah leaned against the huge sandstone block of the wall. In the memoryscape, she possessed superhuman strength, and she could easily punch through smaller walls. She wasn’t sure she could manage to break this one, especially with Paul and his deadly sword so close.
“I don’t know how I did it,” Sarah said, trying to buy some time.
Where was Gregorios? Why hadn’t he pulled them out of the memoryscape? Had he been hurt, his mind captured? She felt terrified and alone, and that made her angry. She seized upon the feeling, trying to use it as a shield against her rising panic.
“She lies.”
Sarah glanced toward the stairs leading out of the huge room. There stood John, dressed like an English gentleman out of the eighteenth century, frowning at her.
“John, help me,” she called.
His frown deepened. “Help you help Gregorios assault my very existence? Do you think me a fool, girl?”
“Leave us,” Paul commanded, his tone cold.
“I have the right to assist with the interrogation,” John said, but looked less sure of himself.
“You will do as I command,” Paul said. “And do it now.”
With a final angry glower, John turned and marched out of the room. Sarah yearned to follow him, to find out how he was in the memoryscape and why he seemed to know Paul, but Paul stepped between her and the exit.
“Perhaps I need to hurt you more,” he said, his tone again conversational, as if discussing which dessert to select from a menu. “But first, tell me how you fuel the machine and enter these memories? It should be impossible with the degradation of your facetakers’ nevrons.”
“Maybe you’re not as smart as you think,” Sarah countered. “You claim to be in control, but you’re the one who doesn’t seem to understand anything.”
He had tilted his head lower, so she couldn’t see his frown, but by the tensing of his shoulders, she could tell she’d angered him. That might not have been a good idea, since he was the one holding the sword. He stepped forward, blade rising.
“I warned you,” he said.
The same terror that had raged through her while facing Mai Luan returned, and Sarah reached for that feeling of insubstantiality that had saved her there. As soon as she focused on that need, her rune burned against her back and the feeling she sought radiated out from it. Her skin began to fade to translucent.
“Ah, you can summon your unique ability at will,” Paul said, sounding pleased. “Tell me how, or I will remove your skin to examine your runes.”
He thrust, and the sword pierced Sarah’s stomach. She felt it slide through her ethereal form, like a distant shadow. Seeing the blade standing out from her abdomen disgusted her. She leaped away, sliding off the sword and tumbling past Paul’s outstretched hand. His fingers passed through her arm, like muddy tendrils of smoke clinging to her skin. She shrieked and ran, skirting the outer wall.
Paul chased her, easily keeping pace and blocking her access to the rest of the room. She could probably jump through him, but the thought of passing through so much of him made her skin crawl.
“How long can you maintain the effect?” he asked, not
sounding the least bit winded, despite how fast they were running.
“Long enough to get away from you, creep!”
“Perhaps not that long.” He sounded like he was enjoying himself.
She had to get away, to find a few seconds to mark the escape rune. She’d never been able to maintain the ethereal form for long, and even as she ran, she felt it fading.
“Only a few seconds,” Paul said, noting the change. “About the same as when you faced Mai Luan.”
“How can you know that?” she shouted, yearning for a gun or a grenade, or maybe a tank.
Without warning, a doorway appeared in the outer wall, and Paul stumbled, clutching at his head. Sarah veered toward the opening, pouring on the speed, hoping the change meant Gregorios had joined her.
The doorway disappeared half a heartbeat before she reached it.
Fully substantial again, Sarah crashed into the wall, still running faster than an Olympic sprinter. The impact nearly blacked her out. Every inch of her body screamed with pain as she bounced off the wall and fell to the unyielding stone floor, moaning. Even with her fast healing, several seconds passed before the world stopped spinning and she could think straight again.
Paul’s sword pierced her thigh, snapping her focus back to the present. She cried out and grabbed at the blade, but Paul withdrew it. He hadn’t stabbed deep, just an inch or so, but it was enough. He stood over her, but even from that angle, she couldn’t see into the dark shadows gathered under the brim of his hat.
“I tire of the game,” he said. “Answer--”
Gregorios’ voice boomed through the building, interrupting. “Let’s find out what’s behind door number two.”
The wall directly behind Paul exploded inward, giant blocks of stone shattering and spraying deadly shards across the room. Dozens of fragments struck Paul, who stood between Sarah and the explosion, but he barely staggered. As a billowing cloud of dust enveloped them, he turned toward the outer wall, and that time, Sarah caught a glimpse of his frown.
The explosion might not have hurt him, but it did distract him for a precious second.
Despite how much she still hurt, Sarah leaped to her feet and sprinted for the opening in the wall.
Paul caught her before she made it three steps. His hand sealed around her arm like a vice, and he whipped the sword around in a blow that would sever her other arm.
Sarah’s rune burned against her shoulder, and she faded to insubstantial just as the blade reached her skin. It passed through, trailing a few drops of her blood where it had pierced her just as she faded. Sarah twisted away from Paul, who snarled with frustration.
She ran for the wall and threw herself into the gap with all her enhanced strength. She flew through the opening and soared fifty feet in a graceful dive into sunlight. She landed on stone-paved ground and rolled, returning to her feet already running.
As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she found herself sprinting across a wide piazza devoid of people. She spotted Gregorios not far away, high atop a statue of Jupiter. His legs were wrapped around the god’s neck and he was holding back a huge iron ball a full eight feet in diameter. A chain ran from the top of the ball all the way up to the roof of Paul’s temple.
“Nice dive,” Gregorios called. “I’d hoped I’d find you behind that wall.”
“Let’s get out of here!” Sarah shouted, angling toward him.
“Time for door number three.”
He released the thick chain. The huge ball swept down, accelerating with remarkable speed and crashing into the opening Sarah had just dived through just as Paul jumped into the opening. The ball caught him in the chest, and even he couldn’t ignore that one.
It flattened him and blasted him back through the opening, taking most of the wall with it. Huge blocks of stone toppled into the temple. Dust billowed out of the shattered building, obscuring everything. Three seconds later, the roof began to collapse with a heart-stopping groan of timbers. The ensuing avalanche shook the ground and lasted ten long seconds.
Gregorios dropped to the foot of the statue beside Sarah. He looked pleased with himself.
“Thanks,” she said. “You arrived just in time.”
“I pride myself on saving damsels in distress.”
She kissed his cheek. “You did today. But I thought ancient Roman temples were built stronger.”
He winked. “I cheated.”
“Good thing,” Sarah said. “Gregorios, he was so strong, and he talked about Mai Luan. He knew things about when she died that he shouldn’t be able to know.”
“Like what?”
“Little things, like knowing it was you and me and Alter who faced her. He knew about how I faded to insubstantial in there, how I defeated her.”
Gregorios frowned. “Those clues might help figure him out.”
Sarah grabbed his arm. “John’s in there with him. They’re working together?”
His frown deepened. “That explains a few things.”
“He calls himself Paul, and I think he’s Cui Dashi,” Sarah added, hating to use the terrifying label. “He was like Mai Luan.”
“All the more reason to finish him off.” Gregorios started toward the mountain of rubble that had been the temple. “And to beat the truth out of John.”
Sarah moved to follow, but the top of the rubble pile exploded away, fragments of wood and stone spraying across the piazza. Paul rose from the opening, looking battered and bloody. His suit was shredded and his shoulders sagged, but he still wore that hat.
Then the broken remains of the temple shimmered and disappeared. Paul floated down to the bare stones of the piazza. His clothing flickered, then returned to pristine shape, and he stood taller. His sword appeared in his hand again.
“I hate cheaters,” Gregorios muttered, rubbing one temple as if he’d gotten a headache.
“You’re beginning to annoy me,” Paul declared as he advanced toward them. He spoke softly, but his voice reverberated across the piazza.
“We need to get out of here!” Sarah cried.
“I suppose we don’t have a choice.” Gregorios sounded reluctant, but panic threatened to overwhelm Sarah’s reason. Paul had survived everything Gregorios had thrown at him, and didn’t look damaged.
Gregorios looked up and growled, “All right, take us home, Harriett.”
As the memoryscape began to fade, Paul rushed forward with superhuman speed and slashed his blade through the space Sarah was vacating. It passed through her without harm, but she cried out in fear anyway. His voice chased her into oblivion.
“We will speak again soon, Sarah. Your soul belongs to me.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
History is the version of past events that Harald has ensured that people have decided to agree upon.
~Napoleon Bonaparte
As soon as he removed the helmet, Gregorios said, “John is officially on probation.”
“What happened in there?” Harriett asked.
“Too much, and none of it good,” Sarah said as Alter helped her to her feet. She was so relieved to be back in the vault, surrounded by friends and lots of guns, she threw her arms around Alter. “It’s good to be back.”
He gripped her tight, arms wrapping her waist, and his solid presence helped wash away the last of her fear. She only wished Tomas had been there to greet her. When she withdrew, Alter seemed reluctant to release her, but she pretended not to notice. Paul had rattled her too much to worry about how Alter might read her actions.
“Are you all right?” Alter asked, looking more than ready to offer more comfort if she needed it. “The drain was pretty bad.”
“We didn’t mess with too much,” Gregorios said with a frown. “Except for finding a broken memory where Paul was trying to interrogate Sarah.”
“Whoa, wait!” Alter exclaimed. “Who’s Paul, and why was he trying to interrogate Sarah?”
“We’ll get to that,” Gregorios said. “The drain felt severe?”
Alter nodded. “Felt like someone was doing a lot of manipulations, a lot of struggle for control. Either that, or the problems with your nevron are making the drain worse.”
“I’m glad you were there to help us,” Francesca told him.
She started to walk toward a chair but her legs buckled. Alter reacted with enhanced reflexes and caught her before she hit the floor. She clung to his shoulders as he lifted her lithe body and carried her to the chair.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “You’re a good man to have around.”
“Just be careful,” Alter said, trying to disentangle himself and retreat.
Francesca didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and kept her arms around his neck for several more seconds. Sarah had to wonder what her plan was. She liked Francesca, but the young-looking facetaker was far older than her nearly-twenty body suggested. She had to know what she was doing to Alter. Sarah hoped her plan didn’t backfire and drive Alter away. Then again, maybe Francesca’s attention might help divert him from his ongoing attempt to supplant Tomas.
Eirene took Gregorios’ hands. “Stop stalling. You mentioned Paul and torture. Who and why?”
“Paul is what the name the man in the wide-brimmed calls himself.”
Eirene looked thoughtful. “That’s interesting.”
“How so?” Francesca asked before Sarah could. “And where does torture fit in?”
“A Cui Dashi I defeated in ancient Rome, who was Spartacus’ handler, was named Pavlos,” Gregorios said.
Sarah frowned. “You mean, the guy with the dogs?”
“What?” Gregorios asked.
“You know, the guy who taught his dogs to drool by ringing the dinner bell.”
He laughed. “No, that was Pavlov.”
“Interesting fellow,” Eirene added through her own smile. “But the name Paul is Pavlos in Greek. And I don’t think he ever owned a dog.”
